


Oliver the Coach

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: Oliver The ... [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Crushes, Dream Sex, F/M, Felicity & Iris BFFs, Fluff and Smut, Salmon Ladder Lust, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: Felicity had a crush.That was nothing scandalous for a girl of 17.The fact said crush was on her High School gym teacher .... well maybe THAT was a little scandalous.





	1. A Harmless Crush

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot became a two shot... the second part will be added within a week.

****

**September**

Her breasts felt like fire as his large hands scooped and caressed them slowly. He was taking his time, his lips, _those fucking gloriously soft lips,_ were turned up at the corners making for a devilish smile that had her toes curling and her body writhing underneath him.

The floral bedspread of her king single twisted and shifted with her flailing arms as she tried to decide where to put them. Finally she settled on one hand twisted like a fist into the comforter and the other, palm flat against the white slatted headboard and fingers curled over the edge of it.

She was panting, thick, hot breaths before he warned her to be quiet, that if someone found them… she pressed her lips tightly together, stapling them with her teeth as her blue eyes widened when his lips dropped down to her chest.

His tongue flicked and teased her nipple almost relentlessly. He would encase it in the warmth of his mouth and lull it gently with the tip of his tongue before he pulled away and blew across it, sparking a sensation not unlike a firecracker across her sweat-veiled skin.

He knew what he was doing. He knew just how close he was taking her and how needy her body was becoming. He whispered something along those lines into her ear with a growl in his voice that sounded _almost_ predatory.

And then his fingers – those long, _deliciously long_ , thick, _wildly thick_ , strong, _incredibly strong_ fingers – were between her folds, slipping and sliding like a backyard waterslide, back and forth between her sex.

Her skirt was up around her waist, her panties were hung beside her hand on the corner of the bedhead beside her school backpack and her white blouse, now missing at least three buttons, was lying torn on the floor. Her bra would have been somewhere too, but she was of no mind to search her bedroom for it right now.

He kissed her navel and hummed against her stomach. His hands were now anchored to her hips and her breasts ached to be touched by him again.

She looked down the line of her body as he looked up and smiled.

“Felicity,” he whispered her name.  
She nodded, her lips still stapled shut.  
“Felicity,” his voice sounded more urgent.  
“Oliver,” she replied before she laughed softly, unsure what more he wanted from her.  
“Felicity,” louder, and the tone was wrong – gone was the deep, melodious tone, now replaced with a high, slightly female…

“Felicity,”  
_Her mother?_

Felicity’s eyes shot open and Oliver instantly disappeared from her room. She lay completely still as she tried to understand where she was and what just happened, but when she met with the slightly perplexed expression of her mom hanging in her room from the doorway it became abundantly clear that Felicity had been dreaming.

Dreaming about Oliver.  
Oliver her gym coach.

* * *

  
Felicity closed the door of her locker with a thud as she tried to focus on anything other than the hot waves of unfulfilled desires that washed over her.

Every logical part of her body was thoroughly annoyed with the typical _teenage dream_ behaviour she had been experiencing lately.

In both age and legal status Felicity was 17, but in aptitude and desire to drink cheap beer from red solo cups she was at least 35 but these past weeks her giggly, immature, highly emotional (irrational if you asked her) side kept winning.

Oliver Queen had only started at Starling Heights High School two weeks ago after the last coach, a solid woman with a sneer where there was ordinarily a smile, won the state lottery and decided to move to Wisconsin (for some reason that Felicity just couldn’t understand).

That’s when the dreams started.

Crazy, sexual dreams that took her almost every night; and they were becoming more detailed and explicit. The one last night, _this morning_ , had been so lifelike that Felicity had tasted his kiss, _minty with a hint of rich dark roasted coffee_ , she had smelled his scent, _early morning pine forest before the veil of dew had gone_ , and she had even felt his hand, _thick, strong and a little rough at the pads of his fingers._

Thoughts of his sweaty, shirtless body (even though he hadn't actually removed the blue polo shirt he must has a drawer full of, Felicity had a good imagination and the light weave of cotton never did much to hide his form) were starting to bleed into her other classes.

In fact in math just last Friday she had imagined him clearing down the desk with one hand before he threw her on top and went all _right angled_ on her. When she hummed salaciously she had caught a very strange look from the guy in the seat next to her and she had no doubt he probably thought she got aroused by complicated math equations now.

Felicity let out an audible sigh.  
At least she only had three more months of this.  
Because in three months she would graduate earlier, go to MIT and find another hot guy that she was never actually going to talk to, to dream about.

It would be fine.  
She could do that.  
She just needed to try and forget about Coach Queen.

Felicity looked down at her schedule and grimaced. Monday first period was gym class.  
_Shit_.  
The fates hated her.

She wasn’t even over this morning’s dream and now she had to find a way through an hour of staring at her insanely good looking gym teacher while she imagines what he might look like naked blowing on the whistle that hung around his neck.

 _Shit_.  
This morning’s tantric episode into the dream world had put her pretty damn close to seeing herself over the edge of an orgasm using her fingers and the power of her mind alone, seeing him in the flesh with remnants of that still coursing through her was going to be near impossible.

“What’s up gorgeous,” Iris West, her BFF since pre-k sung as she threaded her arm through Felicity's and plopped her chin down on her shoulder, “what hot guy are you thinking about?”  
Felicity over exaggerated a gasp, “No, I’m not, no, not him, no.”  
Iris may have been her best friend, but Felicity was locking up her fantasies about Coach Queen in the deepest, darkest mind vault she could find.

“Okay, I think thou doth protest too much, I was literally kidding and you’re stressing out,” Iris laughed, a charming smile dancing though her hazelnut eyes.  
Felicity just smiled, hoping that would be enough of a placate.  
Iris shrugged, “so I feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever,” she chortled as the duo walked the halls.  
“We hung out on Saturday,” Felicity reminded her as she jostled the backpack slung over her shoulder.  
“I know,” Iris fluffed Felicity's ponytail as they walked, “anyway, Barry is being a dick.”

Felicity chuckled, the three had been friends for a decade and when Barry and Iris tried their hand at dating a couple of months ago Felicity had found herself inadvertently their relationship counsellor – which she was not the best candidate for, given the fact she had approximately one boyfriend, Ray Palmer, last year for 5 months, unless you counted that turbulent sandbox relationship with Tyler from Kindergarten, which she did not, because honestly it wasn't healthy that his love was measured in how many times he pushed her.

To say Felicity was ill equipped to be a relationship counsellor was a gross understatement.  
“What’s new?” she laughed while she walked her glasses up the bridge of her nose.  
“He says proms are overrated.”

Felicity feigned a long, dramatic _hmmm_ like she was Sigmund Freud.  
“I mean, he’s not wrong,” she finally answered with a chuckle.  
“That’s not the point, he should take me right because I want to go and relationships are about compromise.”  
“And in light of that, I take it you will be going to the comic convention with him this year?”  
Iris scrunched up her nose.  
“Point taken,” she groaned, “so who are you going with?”  
“I wasn’t intending on going.”

Iris’ arm constricted like a snake around Felicity's forearm.  
“Yes you are,” she said pointedly.  
“No,” Felicity sighed as she peeled back Iris' death grip, “I got early admittance to MIT so I have a butt load of work to do before I go.”  
A familiar pout broke over Iris’ richly caramel complexion, it was one she had mastered in the last two months since Felicity had given her the news.  
“I still can’t believe you’re leaving me in three months.”  
“And 6 months after that, you’ll graduate and go to college just down the road from me, so it’ll be fine,” Felicity trudged through the same response she had given every other time.

“You'll be surrounded by college boys,” Iris swooned as she leaned against a locker that wasn’t hers.  
“Oh yeah I’m sure I’ll share my bed with at least two college guys at the same time...”  
Felicity saw him the moment the fifth to last word came out of her mouth, but it was already too late to stop the rest.

He didn’t look up from the stereotypical clipboard he was carrying, but his dimples twitched as he tried to rein in a smile. Oliver, the star of her dirty dreams, absolutely overhead her talking about college threesomes... _because this day couldn’t possibly get worse._

Felicity prayed to every deity her study of world religions last year had taught her, simply asking for the ground to swallow her up... or a time machine that to go back a couple of minutes to a time before she was absolutely mortified.

Iris waited until Coach was out of earshot.  
“Speaking of hot college guys, the new coach is so fine. I would let him teach me things,” Iris sighed as she smacked her full lips together.  
“Barry,” Felicity coughed.  
“Coach Oliver is on my list, so it’s fine.”  
Iris tossed her arms over her chest and produced a half tipped smile.  
“Your list?”  
“Of people I can sleep with and it’s not cheating.”

Felicity didn’t mean to almost choke when she laughed.  
“I don’t think...” she started, her voice trailing off.  
“A girl can dream.” 

* * *

 

The bleachers were long, single planks of varnished pine that creaked when you sat on them and felt like you were sitting on a slab of concrete, but this morning they felt like a plush mattress, cushioned and designed to cradle Felicity's derrière.

Nothing had changed.  
The only difference between today and the countless other gym classes spent shifting from one cheek to the other in search of gaining feeling back in your ass cheek was Oliver Queen.

His slightly rasped tone was echoing off the freshly waxed gymnasium floor as his mouth moved over each word like he was eating fine French cuisine. Every word he spoke looked like his lips formed around it and his tongue tasted it on his lips.

He spoke with a kind authority, as though he was _teaching_.  
Yes Felicity understood the absurdity of what she was thinking but it didn’t make it any less true. Just because you had a degree in teaching or a decade of experience behind you didn’t mean you automatically received this tone, _oh no, it wasn’t something every teacher possessed._

But Oliver had it in spades.  
Cool, charming, slightly growled, authoritarian but kind.  
_Fuckable_.  
Felicity choked on her own thoughts.  
She sputtered and snorted and made about every embarrassing noise that could come from a mouth.

Oliver paused and taking only a split second to decide he offered her the water bottle that had been sitting at his feet with a fleeting but electric smile.

Habit dictated she took it and before either of them realised the boundary they had possibly crossed, Felicity's lips were around the rubber nozzle of Coach Queen’s drink bottle.

She noted the pulled tension in the right side of his neck, like he realised there was probably some policy about sharing drink bottles with students and, honestly, Felicity should have purchased a lottery ticket with that bout of accuracy, because that was _exactly_ what he was thinking.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ Oliver cursed in the confines of his head as he rolled his hands together.  
He was almost certain there was something in binder 2 of 3 that said no personal effects were to be shared with students.  
_Did a drink bottle count as a personal effect?_  
_Would it be better or worse if he told her to keep it and he just went and bought another one?_

He rolled back onto the heels of his sneakers in an attempt to act casual.  
_Nothing to see here._  
This was his first teaching job ever, unless you counted coaching his sister’s peewee field hockey team or the service dogs he trained. He was pretty sure neither of those things counted, so Starling Heights High School was his first and he was tanking.

Not just because he’d shared his drink bottle with the girl in his class that sounded like there was something dying in her throat but mostly because he noticed just how unassumingly pretty she was.

With golden hair pulled back into a functional and practical ponytail, though with the added flare of a single sectional braid on one side, natural lips that held a pretty pout and square frame glasses that sat ahead of large, stunning blue eyes that resembled ocean pools from the Maldives.

He definitely wasn’t supposed to notice things like that.  
That was in ring binders 1, 2 and 3.

“Okay any questions?” he fumbled out, trying to wrinkle out the worry lines that had undoubtedly sprung up across his forehead.  
One hand went up.  
“Uh yes, sorry, I’m still learning names,” Oliver remarked pointing a finger at the hand.  
Felicity looked to her right, three rows down.  
“Isobel,” she hummed before Felicity had a chance to identify her.  
_God, she had the breasts of a porn star_ Felicity silently lamented.

Not that she would _actually_ know, aside from that time her and Iris stumbled across late night cable, but they were 14 and giggling so hard that Felicity, at least, didn’t see anything worthwhile.

“Are you single?” Isobel asked bluntly, pushing those C-cups further out from her chest.  
It was Oliver’s turn to choke on his tongue and a mouthful of air he gasped inwards, although, unlike Felicity, he recovered without snorting. He did however blush across the apples of his cheeks and blink down at his feet.  
He was embarrassed and Felicity had an incorrigible desire to hug him. She swallowed another gape, his water bottle still dangling from her grasp.  
“I don’t think that matters,” he answered in a tone that was attempting authoritarian but a little too much embarrassment lingered for him to fully pulled it off.

Felicity didn’t quite understand his hedged embarrassment though. Surely he owns a mirror and he looks like Zeus himself carved the man from stone for the sole purpose of making girls swoon. This shouldn’t be news to the man.

 _Perhaps_ she wondered, _his embarrassment stemmed from something else._  
Maybe that cherry blush wasn’t because he hadn’t heard the question before, maybe it was because he heard so often that him and his Yoga Instructing, Marathon Running, Swimsuit Modelling, Goodwill Giving, Cure Finding Girlfriend laugh about it _all the time_.

They’ll go home and have sex using at least three positions Felicity probably can’t even comprehend let alone attempt and then they’ll joke about the strange girl who made odd noises during first period and that time he got asked **_again_** if he was single.

Honestly, Oliver should just bring his incredibly hot girlfriend Natasha (Felicity had already given her a backstory) to the next class.

_That would make Isobel’s Cs shudder._

Felicity snorted again as she laughed a little louder than intended. Coach looked but nothing more than his eyebrow flexed this time before Iris elbowed Felicity directly in the ribs.

_She totally deserved that._

“Is that a no?” Isobel asked relentlessly, looking over her shoulder to make sure she growled appropriately at Felicity.  
“It’s a I don’t think it matters,” Oliver replied, swaying heel toe, heel toe.  
“So it’s a yes?”

“Any other questions?”  
“Just tell them about Natasha and her work with seeing eye dogs,” Felicity mumbled under her breath, which cause Iris to pinch her eyes at Felicity like her BFF had lost her damn mind.  
_Which she pretty much had._

Four hands went up.  
“Not about my single status,” Oliver annexed.  
Four hands went down.  
“So that’s a yes, you are single,” Isobel winked and the entire front row of girls leaned forward.  
_Poor Natasha._  
Oliver sighed, he’d answered it without meaning to and this wasn’t exactly what he’d planned.

He should have just said no.  
Or gone tanning with a fake wedding band on so it left a tan line (that had been his sister's input).  
But he’d stupidly done neither of those and now he was going to be known as that teacher.

“Alright class, laps around the court to warm up,” he clapped his hands after he finished and surprisingly the gaggle of girls stood rather efficiently and the boys of the class finally woke up from the quasi dating show they had been stuck watching.

“Definitely on my list,” Iris leaned over and whispered into Felicity's ear, “yours too,” she added with a devious smile as she cocked an eyebrow to the bottle Felicity was still holding.

The soft plastic in her hands suddenly felt like molten lava when she realised just how tightly she had begun to hug the harbinger of blushed doom.

She stood up rapidly but her feet hadn’t got the memo and she stumbled forward joltingly enough that the bottle flew from her hands in slow motion.

Oliver, with reflexes like his jaw line (breathtakingly sharp) caught the bottle effortlessly in one hand and provided a shelf for Felicity to rebalance herself with the other.  
  
“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes firmly anchored on her.  
His forearm was firm, _so firm_ , like a pole made of flesh and muscles and warm taut skin; and she was so close she could smell him, musky and a little sweaty but it wasn’t bad, it kind of smelled like a rainforest.  
“Felicity, are you okay, is your ankle sore?”

She hadn’t realised she had popped her foot up behind her like a romantic coming of age flick. She lowered it slowly putting weight back on it with a feigned grimace in the hopes he continued to blissfully believe a sore ankle had caused the mishap and not a penchant for watching old Hollywood lovefest films finally catching up with her.

But while she was trying to make it as realistic as possible, something else occurred to Felicity. She blinked up at him with a mix of surprise and confusion, _maybe she had heard him wrong...._  
“Felicity?” he asked again when no answer was forthcoming.

 _Nope she hadn’t heard wrong,_ He knew her name.  
“I’m fine, fine, absolutely fine, sorry,” she fumbled with the words as she retracted her claw-like grip on his forearm and brushed it down her waist.  
“No reason to be sorry, are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded like a bobble-head dog ornament in the back of a grandmother's car.  
“Mmm, I’m okay,” she steadied herself on her ‘sore’ ankle while Oliver studied it quite fastidiously.  
“Okay then,” he finally accepted.

* * *

  
**[A Month Later]**

  
It was a Friday and school was just as Felicity liked it – silent.  
The halls had long since emptied and the rush of feet on linoleum floors was a distant memory. There were no lockers to be fought with and no loud bell ringing dangling expectantly over a body of students.

School was finished for the week. It had been for some hours. The only noise in the distance was the hum of the floor polisher and an occasional door closing.

She wiggled on the stair just a fraction while she kept her eyes to the page in front of her, letting them gobble up word after word of the riveting book that fully held her attention.

“Everything okay?” a familiar voice asked from in front of her.  
Felicity finished the line and put her finger on the page to mark it before she looked up, her glasses slipped just under the bridge of her nose.

The voice belonged to Coach Queen, and she didn’t need to look up to know that. Felicity was actually pretty good at recognising voices, it was all a matter of scale – pitch, depth, treble – it actually wasn’t far off a mathematical equation, it also helped he had a voice worth memorizing – low, deep, slightly gravelled, _probably sounds fucking amazing when whispered into your ear..._

But now wasn’t the time to let herself slip back into day dream mode. She had spent the last month somewhat curbing that to the point where she could finally sit in gym class without imagining a scenario that ended up with them naked on the padded mats in the corner breathlessly saying ‘so that happened’.

“Mmm, fine, why wouldn’t it be?” she answered quite succinctly.  
“It’s almost five and you’re sitting on a staircase at school on a Friday night,” Oliver answered with a smile pinned to his full lips.  
“Ah, so the nerd doesn’t have a social life?” Felicity bit back with a smirk.  
“Sorry,” Oliver flustered for a moment, “that’s not what I meant.”

Felicity let him stew in his anguish for a few moments until she laughed softly and his expression instantly relaxed.

“I’m just waiting for Iris while she puts the finishing touches on the school paper, she’s the editor,” Felicity explained, “once she gets out I promise to have a social life.”  
She rolled her head to one shoulder and laughed gently.

Turns out, when he wasn’t standing in front of a class with his shoulders back and his gruffly voice, Oliver didn’t seem all that sexually intimidating. He'd gone from gym short wearing fantasy about screwing on school equipment, to the nice guy at the build a bear in the mall who you might subconsciously flirt with just to see if he’s aiming for employee of the week or if he is as interested in you as his eyes let on.

“Milkshakes and roller skating?” Oliver asked as he perched on the same step just along from her.  
It hadn’t been a considered move and, much like the water bottle incident, he’d done it without thinking at all until he’d committed to it.

“How old are you?” Felicity teased with a laugh that brightened her cheeks and glistened in her eyes.  
Oliver shrugged his hands jovially before he clasped them together.

“So what do young people in Starling do for fun nowadays?”  
Felicity smiled, he sounded like her grandfather.  
“Well the jocks chase a ball made of dead pig skin around an empty parking lot drinking cheap beer one of their divorced parents bought for them in an effort to solidify their love,” she started as she threaded the bookmark into her page and closed the book, “then the cheerleaders watch while they paint each other’s nails and discuss who is dating whom and who should be prom queen, or fairy princess, I’m really not sure what they call it anymore.”

She paused to watch a smile blossom over his lips before she continued.  
“Then you have the achievers who are probably at home studying or out buying nicotine patches because they heard some rumour that it helps you to concentrate. The stoners are probably getting stoned. The Mary-Sues are probably looking up new recipes and trying on lingerie and there are probably at least twenty guys, statistically speaking I cant give you names, from this school who are actively looking at porn.”  
Felicity folded her hands onto her lap when she was finished.

“Well, that was more thorough than I expected,” he chortled.  
She shrugged lightly with one shoulder.  
“I mean, you asked.”  
“That’s right, I did,” his eyes watched her as his hand instinctively slid out halfway in the space between them, “so which group do you fit in?”  
She lifted up her sleeve, “no nicotine patch so that counts me out of there. I can’t cook. My parents, while not together aren't vying for my attention because I don’t know my dad so my mom automatically wins. I’ve never smoked weed, I’m not the pompom touting type and porn seems too cliché for me,” she answered in a single run.  
“So none of them?”  
Her hand also instinctively slid out to meet his. Stopping short of actually touching.  
“I guess not,” she breathed.  
“So what does Felicity do?”

She had heard her name from his mouth before, but it still sent a pleasing shiver down her spine.  
“I read, or if I’m forced to interact with someone tangible, movies are fun,” she replied, her voice much more breathy and whispered than she had intended.

There was a period where neither spoke from their mouths, but the lingered glances and the fingers stretching out across the concrete – _they were practically screaming..._

Until the sound of a door opening and chatting voices threw them back into reality. A reality where their hands withdrew and their expression looked sheepish and almost gaped.

Iris stopped talking when her eyes landed on them and a second later Felicity bound to her feet and brushed a hand down her side.

“Okay well see you around Mr Queen, I promise to have fun,” Felicity babbled as she collected her book and bag and wrestled the latter over her shoulder  
“Good,” Oliver remarked, clapping his hands together, “enjoy the movie.”  
“You could come with us,” Iris effused before Felicity dug her elbow into her ribs, not that it had any effect, “the movie starts at seven.”  
“Thanks for the offer girls, but no, I don’t think so,” Oliver replied as he stood and started to back away.  
“See you next week coach,” Iris called out with an affixed smile across her glossed lips.  
“Night girls,” he waved before he turned and disappeared down the hall.

“Were you two flirting?” Iris asked Felicity with one cocked eyebrow.  
“No, gross, he’s my teacher,” Felicity shook her head wildly to prove the point.  
“Only for another three months and the age of consent is sixteen here,” Iris answered matter of factly, “but seriously, he looked really into you.”  
Felicity chuckled out a breathy laugh before she tugged the black beanie down lower on her head.

“No he didn’t Iris, he was just showing concern to the weird kid who was still at school on a Friday night.”  
Felicity opened the door to the courtyard and stepped out into the late afternoon of autumn colours.  
“What do you think he does on a Friday night?” Iris pondered as she followed Felicity out.  
“I wouldn’t know.”  
“I bet when he has sex he straight up carries you to the bed.”  
A soft sigh left Iris’ mouth.  
“Iris!” Felicity gasped.  
“What?” a tiny shrug, “it’s probably true.”  
“I still don’t think we should talk about his sex life.”  
They walked through to the car park and towards Iris’ silver Honda.  
“Can you _imagine_ how great it would be to wake up next to him after your whole body has been ravaged by him,” Iris swooned as she rolled a hand across her waist.

Felicity swallowed a month’s worth of _imagining_.  
“I bet that’s what he does on a Friday night,” Iris sighed, “he ravages some lucky bitch he meets at a bar.”

* * *

  
About two weeks later Felicity found out what Oliver’s Friday nights usually consisted of when she once again found herself waiting for Iris to finish up the paper.

But instead of studiously waiting on the stairs like she usually did, Felicity decided to take a walk.

She ended up in the gymnasium, drawn by a loud clanging and thumping. She opened the doors just enough to slot her head between them and found Oliver halfway up the salmon ladder, his thick thighs dangling below him and his arms pulled tight above him. Every _single_ muscle in his body was ripped and taut and those that she could see glistened with sweat, including the deep v of his lower back that was in her direct eye line. Beads of sweat trailed below his waistband as he swung and did the final rung with a hearty, guttural groan.

“Feck,” the word dripped from her mouth almost silently.  
He jumped down with a wet _humph_ puffing from his mouth.  
Felicity knew it was probably time to stop staring at him like a buffet of muscles and sinew veins, but she wasn’t moving.

He pulled the bottom up of his light grey tee shirt, darkened with a waterfall of sweat in patches, and wiped it across his face before he pulled the whole thing from his body.

She really needed to leave. But she couldn’t.  
Oliver turned around with the balled up tee in his hands, his chest heaving with each breath before he saw her and stopped dead in his tracks, swallowing the breath he was halfway through.

“Felicity,” he panted her name and it sounded even more delicious than any other time.  
She waved timidly as she stepped fully into the gym.  
“I wasn’t spying, I just heard...” she paused to point a wavering finger at the salmon ladder.  
“Uh it’s okay, can I help you with something?”  
He held his balled tee close against his chest but it didn’t hide his trembling and twitching pecs as his muscles continued to fire.  
“Nope,” she swallowed her tongue and blew out a silent, measured breath, “just wandering the halls, taking it all in before I’m out of here.”  
“Don’t you have like eight months left of school?” he chuckled.

“Actually only two, I’m graduating early to start college in the new year, I got an early admittance,” Felicity explained, settling her heart rate into a normal one, finally.  
“Starling University?”  
“Uh, MIT actually, I’m moving to Boston after Hanukah, my mother is very distraught, but she’ll get over it.”  
Felicity chuckled softly.  
“Wow, I didn’t know that.”

She was surprised how genuinely impressed he seemed and how apologetic he appeared to be for not knowing.  
“Why would you know?”  
“I should know when I’m teaching a genius,” he answered with a smile as he wiped the sweat from his brow a second time.

Felicity forgot how to speak while she watched tiny trails of sweat weave between the crevices of his tight abs.

 _Your whole body has been ravaged by him_  
Iris’ words echoed through Felicity's head.  
She wanted to be ravaged, multiple times.

“You’re very strong,” she mumbled, subconsciously licking her bottom lip.  
“Thank you,” he blew out a soft laugh that settled wet warmth between her legs.  
“You must really watch what your body goes in.”

Oliver tried to hide his smile, “Uh.”  
Felicity squeezed her eyes and shook her head.  
“I mean what goes _into_ your body, not you going inside someone, something, uh okay bye.”  
Felicity ran from the gym without even a momentary look behind her, she really had no desire to prolong her cataclysmic decent into absolute mortification.

She never saw Oliver smile, nor did she hear his charming, “Bye.”

She just ran like Forest.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later found Felicity wandering the school grounds again and, perhaps purposefully, ending up outside the gymnasium once more. Only this time Oliver wasn’t there.

She tried to stem her disappointment even if the last meeting ended in her running all the way home and getting a call from Iris asking what the hell happened to her.

She sighed wistfully before she kicked her feet on the spot and decided she might as well use the bathroom while she was here.

Her lips folded into a frown when she saw the closed for maintenance sign in the doorway of the girls’ locker and bathroom.  
“Excuse me, do you know how long you’ll be?” Felicity asked the man just inside the door.

She could make the walk across the courts to the science building but honestly, after the initial disappointment of not seeing a sweat-drenched Oliver hanging from a metal rod, she realised just how much she needed to go, and the other bathroom seemed like miles across unforgiving wasteland.

“All night probably, we’re replacing the cisterns here and in the science block,” _there goes the nearest port_ , “you could use next door though, no one is around.”

She knew what he meant but she turned her head regardless.  
Next door was the boys’ locker room.  
There wasn’t a soul around school, Felicity had been here enough in the past to know that.  
_What’s the worst that could happen?_

She was humming a song to herself when she pushed through the locker room doors. It had annoyingly being trapped in her head for most of the day and given she was still humming it now, it would probably stay with her over the weekend too.

The room was eerily quiet but if she had come through the door a few seconds earlier she would have heard the sound of a shower turning off.

She walked down between the lockers, amused that even though the layout seemed identical to the girls’ one next door, it felt like foreign soil here.

There was something in the air, it smelled like musky socks and woody sweat.

**~*~*~*~**

Oliver jostled the towel through his damp hair after using it to dry his freshly washed body. He let the air pass between his naked legs as he made his way to his locker... _just around the corner._

Felicity turned a corner, a few seconds before she looked up from her feet, but by then it was too late to stop her forward momentum.

Or his for that matter.

She shrieked and Oliver choked on a gasp when they fell against each other. Her scream was so unintentionally loud that it ricocheted off the metal lockers and the pair of them fell, heavily, onto the ground.

The only sound Oliver could wheeze out was a groan as his back hit the floor, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Felicity’s hands were splayed over his wet, silky chest and even as he moaned, hurt, underneath her it was as though she had lost all and any ability to move.

“Oh my fuck,” she cursed quite unexpectedly before she leapt up onto her feet, “Oh my god, fuck, shit,” she really had no control over the words barrelling from her mouth.  
Oliver could only groan.  
“Fuck, shit, sorry, fuck,” she stammered as her eyes inadvertently roamed down his body and caught an eyeful of something he was trying to curl into a foetal position to hide, albeit too late for that now, his large (even when flaccid) cock. _Circumcised if you were wondering._

Felicity took two controlled steps backwards and one sharp breath inwards before she turned on one foot and ran from the locker room.

* * *

  
It was twenty minutes later when a fully clothed Oliver finally caught up to her. She considered running again but the look of pain and horror that afflicted his face made her stay.  
“Felicity...”  
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, only half a second before Oliver said the exact same thing.

“Wait, why are you sorry?” she asked while she brushed a hand over her peached cheek.  
“I’m a teacher and that was inappropriate and I’m so sorry,” he apologised so thoroughly with his hands in a gentle surrender.  
“You didn’t do anything,” she almost giggled at just how utterly mortified he looked, it was as though he was on trial for a federal crime, “I was the one in the boys’ locker room.”  
“Just,” he sighed as he stepped backwards with his shoulders slumped forward, “I understand if you need to report me, I’m just so sorry, I would never deliberately...”  
“Wait,” she exclaimed with a soft shake of her head, “I’m not going to report you, I’d actually really rather never speak of this again.”

A small flicker of relief passed over his face, but he still wore a worried expression underneath it.  
“I understand if you need counselling or...” he wove his hands over each other.  
“Because I saw your penis?” she snort laughed before she reeled in a complete giggling fit, “I mean I just saw like a blur, not its girth or anything,”  
Her lips slammed shut, _Girth? Really?_

“It’s fine, I’ve seen plenty,” she prattled before she could stop herself.  
_She needed to shut up_  
“Oh, I …” he pensively breathed.  
“Animal planet,” she almost yelled, before she managed to control her volume, “not that it’s the same, but you know.”  
Nervous laughter took hold before she pinched her lips closed with her teeth and took three deep breaths in through her nose.  
“Okay I’m going to stop talking,” she offered.

“I’m just really sorry Felicity, look I’ll make it up to you, I’ll turn a blind eye if you put a little vodka in the punch at tomorrow’s prom,” his laugh was as nervous as hers, “I’m kidding, by the way, that’s absolutely not okay.”  
Felicity expelled a breathy laugh as she nodded.  
“I’m not going but thanks for the offer,” she remarked, glad to have both her volume and breathing back under control.  
“You’re not? It’s like a rite of passage.”  
He shook a hand through his cropped hair.

“No, I have some packing to do and I want to get a head start on some of the college curriculum.”  
He smiled, a little ray of sunshine trapped behind his full lips.  
“But you haven’t even left high school?”

Felicity shrugged lethargically, “I’ve never really been all that ‘high school’ like.”  
“Well, I’m sorry you’ll miss it.”  
The next smile he offered was genuine and kind, almost like he _actually meant it..._

* * *

  
Felicity dreamed about him that night again, in vivid colour with sounds and scents that teased her senses.

She was in a pink prom dress and they were dancing, slow, his body against hers, almost swamping her with his arms. But she loved it, the feeling of been so encased by him was making her keen and piquing her arousal quite ferociously.

Oliver leaned in and in a hot whisper that fanned over her cheek, he asked if she wanted to go home with him; asked if she wanted another _rite of passage._

She never heard her own answer but it must have been a yes because the next place her dream took her was to a room that looked like none she’d ever seen before. It was drenched in rich hues of amber and cherry wood with candles scattered throughout it which bathed the room in a warm, inviting glow.

They were kissing, languid and measured, like they knew they had all the time in the world to enjoy each other's mouths.

Their tongues danced and their voices gushed pleasant sighs.  
He lifted her effortlessly, pressing her body into his solid chest while her legs snaked around his waist.

She fell onto the bed, now devoid of the pink dress that had once floated around her body. The bed was like a comfortable embrace that smelled like lavender and cinnamon.

She sat up just enough to slip the rose pink bra from her body in a way that was made for movies and dreams before she lay back down, her blonde hair splayed like a halo around her head.

His eyes were so full of kindness and love and the strokes of his fingers down between her breast was so gentle that Felicity find herself sighing decadently.

Her entire body could feel him – his breath, his fingers, his hands, his cock.  
She knew she was dreaming this time and she knew it was her hands coursing down her body, but tonight, for as long as she could, she would imagine they’re his.

A finger slipped inside her and for a moment she stumbled into the reality it was _her_ own before she squeezed her eyes tighter and Oliver returned, hovering his deliciously impressive physique above her, his eyes willing her to touch any part she wanted.

He was hers to enjoy.

And then he leaned down, kissed her lobe and whispered, “I want to be your first.”  
It was so cheesy and she would have hated it in any other circumstance, but coming from his mouth it sounded like a Shakespearean sonnet written and she nodded in reply to it.

He thrust himself forward but where her body should stretch around him she just felt empty, because no matter how she moved them her fingers just aren’t the same thing. There was no way they could compare to that large, thick rod between his legs that had her wet at the mere thought of it.

_Maybe going to prom wouldn’t be all that bad…_

**To be continued...**


	2. A Surprise Milkshake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hum the Milkshake song by Kelis as you read this.

**[December]**

  
Felicity had to admit the room she’d just stepped into no longer resembled the auditorium of her high school. For all her mumbled dislike for the social structure of high school, the committee that put this together had managed to cover the drab chestnut brown walls in yards, and yards, _and yards_ of soft, ivory fabric, intricately woven around a small stockpile of draped, cascaded and strung up fairy lights that resembled fireflies dancing in clouds.

She smoothed her tentative hands down the sides of the embossed, shimmering gold dress her mother had somehow convinced her to wear.

Felicity wasn’t ashamed of her body, living with a cocktail waitress mother had taught her to appreciate what she had and genetics combined with an active BFF had made her somewhat aware that as far as bodies went, hers was pretty okay. No, the nervous tug on the hemline that hovered mid-thigh wasn’t due to any teenage body angst, it was because she was here, at school, with the sole purpose of seeing if Oliver might, _maybe_ , once she was no longer enrolled at Starling Heights High School, if, _perhaps_ , they could, _if he wanted to_ , talk, _or something_.

She gnawed on the inside of her lip – even her mind was babbling, _how did she expect to transfer a coherent thought to her mouth?_

Felicity pulled her phone from the small bag draped over shoulder, maybe finding Iris and Barry might quash the desire to word vomit at the first occasion she gets to open her mouth.

 _Shit._  
_Fuck._  
Oliver swallowed his tongue.  
The science teacher next to him was still talking but it became muffled, wordless, like background noise lost underwater the moment his eyes caught her.

 _Nothing_ about that dress said high school, College _maybe_ , high school _no_. And yet she didn’t look out of place or like she was trying to add years to her youthful appearance.

She toyed with the hem of it as absently as she chewed her lower lip with her hair draped around her face in a cascade of soft curls.

He watched as she pulled her phone out and tapped her thumbs across the pad while she began to move further into the room.

It wasn’t until Oliver practically shoulder tackled a student in his path that he realised it was actually _him_ moving, not Felicity. But by the time he had come to this realisation it was too late, he was mere feet away and she had looked up from her screen and made him.

_He would have made a terrible spy or hit man._

 

“Hi,” Felicity said quietly, her lips rolling over the extra swipe of lip gloss her mother insisted on.  
“You came,” his tone matched hers, quiet and almost breathless.  
His eyes walked up to her face before quickly looking away.  
“I had this teacher who told me I should,” Felicity replied while she shrugged her shoulders playfully.

She saw his dimple twitch, like something she had said had sparked it to life.  
_Teacher_ , the moment he heard it the corner of his lips twitched. It wasn't like it was new information and yet it was like hearing it from those soft, slightly smiling lips, had brought everything into stark, cold, light.  
He was her teacher.  
Okay so _Coach_ , _Student Coach really._  
This was just an interim job, a necessary step to being where he wanted. To be doing what he wanted.

 _But if he kept looking at her like he was sure he was..._  
Oliver slammed the vault door on the thought.  
_Felicity was a student, end of story._

“I should go,” he announced, his tone must more forceful than he intended and the surprise jarred her face for a moment, “I'm a chaperone,” he added with a quietened voice.  
Felicity nodded, the action causing the fairy lights above her to dance in her eyes.  
“Oh, okay.”

Oliver offered her a weak smile, afraid that giving her anything more might make him want to stay, before he disappeared into the crowd. Only when he knew she couldn’t see him did he finally let go of the breath he was holding.

 

* * *

 

It was a few hours later that Felicity found herself in hiding.

Outside.  
With only the sound of the DJ mixed pop tunes leaking from the opened side door to keep her company.

Iris was trying to set her up with Gavin from the chess club, a “sweet” _read nervous_ , “quiet” _read boring_ friend of Barry.

Chess was great, _well until she beat him and then it would be awful_ , but she wasn’t interested in a handful of awkward dates before she moved to Boston, the only date she might possibly entertain was so far fetched that she’s knew it’s never going to happen, _Oliver isn’t..._

“Everything okay?”  
It was his voice.  
A mix of rasp and velvet.  
It tickled her ears and melted down her body.  
She swallowed a sigh just in time.  
“Of course,” she smiled up at him, noting how his hands are sunk in his pockets and his buttoned jacket is taut across his shoulders as he flexes them back at forth, “just getting some fresh air.”

She shifted slightly on the wooden bench where she had made her home in the cool air watching the winter clouds build in the sky while she decided if they might see the first snowfall tonight.

“Are you cold?” he asked as his fingers moved adeptly down the front of his jacket.  
She slowly peeled her arms back from around her waist, they weren’t huddled there because she was cold, she actually quite liked the chilliness of early winter, but Oliver clearly thought she was out here shivering in a next-to-nothing dress like a mad woman.

Before she could plead her innocence to the charge of blatant fashion above warmth crimes, Oliver's jacket was around her shoulders.

To say it was big was an understatement.  
It swarmed her like a blanket.  
The shoulder seams of the jacket skimmed her elbows and she was certain if she stood up it, it would reach below the end of her dress.

“Thank you,” she remarked softly, her lashes a flutter of black against porcelain.

He knew he was making poor decision after poor decision and when he sat down next to her that was merely another one to add to the list.

He’d dated, like any other 21 year old had, nothing serious, nothing that ended in a broken heart or children he didn’t see, _or did see for that matter_. He wasn’t a player and he wasn’t interested in being one, but there was something about Felicity that drew him in and forced every decision he made to pass through a fog.  
  
Frankly, he just wasn't thinking clearly.

“You’re not like other girls your age,” he remarked as he kept his hands firmly on his knees, at least he was clear minded enough to know that.  
“Thanks,” she offered him a blushed smile, “I think.”  
Oliver chuckled, “It’s a compliment.”  
“Well then I retract my 'I think'.”  
  
They sat a few moments in silence, before Felicity finally spoke up again, “and you're not like other teachers.”  
She cringed the moment the cliché words left her mouth, but if Oliver was bothered by them he didn't show it, instead he offered her a thankful smile – one that filtered up into his eyes and made his hands absently clench around his knees.  
“That's a compliment,” she added before she blew out a softly enchanted laugh.  
“I'm glad for that,” Oliver replied, his smile growing just a little larger, “thank you.”  
  
Felicity let her eyes close for just a moment as she tried to still the thumping in her heart.  
_Thud, Thud, Thud._  
She took three slow breaths as she zoned in on the warmth she could feel radiating off his body.  
_Maybe we could... do you like Boston?_  
None of that seemed like something she could just say or ask.  
She swallowed her nervous butterflies that had ventured from her stomach up the back of her throat.  
_I don't leave for a few weeks, maybe we could..._  
  
“Do you like coffee?” she blurted out, her own eyebrow retracting in surprise at how random and odd that question must have sounded, “I mean because it's supposed to be bad for you and you _clearly_ ,” _did she need to add such emphasis to that word?_ “...look after yourself.”  
She could feel the word vomit and she wanted to cup her hands across her mouth in case the violent hold her teeth had on her lips just wasn't enough.  
  
“I think all things in moderation,” Oliver answered, kindly ignoring the beet red colour Felicity's cheeks had gone, “coffee included.”  
“All things?”  
She really didn't know where this was going, but for some reason that cable TV porn music had started playing in her head and short of slapping a palm to her temple she didn't think she could make it stop.  
  
“I suppose there are some exceptions.”  
She heard his voice slightly crack and for the first time he didn't look down after he'd finished speaking to her.  
“Exceptions like?”  
He heard the nuance in her voice and he saw the way her tongue passed between her lips, subtly wetting them, but he doubted Felicity even knew she was doing it.  
  
He should end this conversation now.  
He should stand up, wish her a good night and leave.  
He should.  
  
“Apples,” he mumbled, trying to disguise his surprise at the word popping from between his lips.  
Felicity's shoulders lightly jiggled underneath his jacket when she laughed.  
“Apples?”  
“I don't think you can have too many.”  
That hadn't been the answer she was angling for, but honestly Felicity wasn't sure _what_ answer she had been. Like he was ever going to say _sex_ , 'Sex is something you don't need to moderate'.  
  
Because if he had said that, what was she supposed to say?  
_Great, let's go have it then?_  
There was no situation where this was going to work.  
Regardless of her attraction to him and her desire to want him to act out, to touch her to kiss her – he would lose his job if he did.  
  
And she didn't want that.  
And neither did he.  
  
“I should go,” Oliver spoke, though his body remained anchored to the bench, showing no signs of obeying him.  
“I finish school next week,” she replied, her fingers nervously interlinking on her lap.  
“I know, I hope it goes well. You don't need it,” he sighed, finally standing up, “but good luck and congratulations.”  
“You can say congratulations on the day,” she offered him a nervous smile, the type where her lower lip stayed snared between her teeth.  
_Maybe after school, over coffee and apples._  
  
His hands went back into pockets, the ones in his suit pants this time.  
“I won't be here next week, I'm taking the basketball team away for a tournament in Central City.”  
Felicity felt her heart sink.  
“So, I won't see you at all?”  
Threads of desperation filled her question even as she tried to quash them.  
“No,” he answered simply, it was probably better that way.  
  
“Well, um,” she stumbled for something as she tried to still the tears welling, it was ludicrous, _why was she upset by this?_  
“Your jacket,” she stood up and slipped it from her shoulders before her arm jutted out like a clothesline to hand it to him.  
“Thanks,” he offered quietly as he took it from her and draped it over his solid forearm.  
  
“It was nice to meet you Felicity Smoak, I am sure you'll do great things.”  
_Walk out, leave,_ he pushed his feet a few steps closer to the door.  
“It was nice to meet you too Coach Queen.”  
Her eyes hooded over as she sucked in the biting cold air.  
She was almost certain it would snow tonight.  
  
And it did.  
It snowed about twenty minutes after Oliver walked back inside the dance, head bowed, one hand in his pocket, path straight – never turning back.  
  
It was nothing to write home about, just a light dusting of flurries that got trapped in Felicity's curls as she walked through the parking lot to her mother's waiting car.  
  
“I didn't expect the call to come home some early,” Donna said quietly as Felicity folded herself into the front seat.  
“I got what I came for,” Felicity answered vaguely.  
“Was it what you wanted?” Donna asked as they pulled away from the school.  
She wasn't actually sure what Felicity was referring to, but she knew better than to push her daughter for a chapter by chapter run down.  
“It was real,” Felicity replied stoically.  
  
After all, those dreams hadn't been.  
At least now she knew.

* * *

 

**[July 2011]**

After over a month of tandem badgering by her mother and Iris, Felicity found herself in Starling again, after flying in from Gotham only a few hours earlier. She had a job and a cosy enough apartment (shoe box) there, but there was definitely something comforting about the familiar streets of Starling, even if they had changed a little.

The bar Iris had insisted they have a “couple of drinks before they hit the dance floor” was cute, the live band was pleasant and not so loud that you couldn’t hold a conversation in one of the far tables. It was a mix of a sports bar meets dive bar though neither label really fit. Honestly, Felicity had half expected Iris to take her to a strip club – it was very possible that was still on the cards.

Iris wouldn't have insisted Felicity wear this tiny black dress with gladiator-esque shoulders if her smirk-hiding friend didn’t have a night involving naked guys grinding against them in mind.

“Felicity,” Iris smiled as she leaned over, the straw of her overpriced cocktail poised just below her full lips, “there is a really hot guy at the bar checking you out.”

Felicity coughed out a laugh like that was the funniest joke she had heard all evening. Guys in bars didn't check her out, _a coffee shop maybe_ , but not bars, she really wasn't their type – okay that was a gross assumption of stereotypes on her part, but it was still fairly representative. She wasn't.

“I doubt that,” she reiterated her disbelief.  
“No I’m serious,” Iris sat back in her chair, her eyes travelling past Felicity to the guy that was seated at the bar, even in the limited light she could tell he was fit, not much older than them and there didn't appear to be any jewellery gleaming on his hand, “I thought he was looking at me, but he was definitely looking at you.”  
Felicity rolled her eyes. _Iris must be drunk._  
  
But despite her feelings on the matter she would indulge her friend.  
She turned around slowly and followed Iris' eyes to the lone figure at the bar.  
  
The instant her eyes landed on him as he took a slow and considered drink from the tumbler in his large hands, she knew it was him and she gave herself whiplash at how fast her head snapped back.  
“Oh my god,” she mouthed, although it wasn't like he could have heard if she spoke the words like a normal person.  
“What?” Iris gaped, plunging her straw into the dregs of her cocktail, “have you slept with him before?”  
“No, god,” she choked, the grimace on her face far more animated than intended.  
“It’s a valid question,” Iris almost looked offended by Felicity's denial, “you’re really hot.”  
“Thank you, you’re very pretty too,” Felicity gushed as the friends held hands for a moment across the table, “but not the point. That’s Oliver.”  
Iris' eyes narrowed as she shrugged softly.

“Coach Queen,” Felicity spoke, enunciating each syllable with blown eyes.  
“NO SHIT,” Iris screamed, catching the attention of almost everyone in the bar, including Oliver himself with his twitched dimple trying to disguise a smile, “how did he get hotter?” she continued, thankfully at lowered volume.  
  
Felicity resisted the urge to turn around and fully dissect the man with her eyes.  
“You need to go talk to him,” Iris announced as she slid her empty cocktail glass across the table.  
“No, what?” Felicity's eyes bounced from Iris to her almost-finished drink to the table and back up to Iris, “No.”  
“Oh come on, this is god herself speaking to you,” Iris challenged with a smile.  
Felicity didn't ask for an explanation but she knew she was probably going to get one – a nice numbered one.  
“One, it’s your birthday,” Iris started, settling nicely into her reporter voice she saved for these special occasions, “two, you had a crush on him at High School when it was a big no no, and three, there he is, checking you out.”  
“One,” Felicity countered with a smile, “my birthday was last week, two so did you and three he’s probably just trying to figure out why I look familiar.”  
She sat back in her chair, normally she couldn't counter Iris' numbered advice quite so succinctly.

“Go and talk to him.”  
Iris eyes narrowed sternly on her friend.  
Numbered advice wasn't the only journalistic approach she had up her sleeve, she was also quite fond of her badgering skills.  
“No.”  
Felicity was quite proud of her stubbornness.

“Go.”  
“No.”  
Iris folded her lips into a pout – she had one more trick, rarely used but often effective – _risk, reward, consequence._  
“If you don’t go I will wave him over and that will be worse.”  
Boom.  
Felicity's mouth gaped at the betrayal of her best friend.  
“You wouldn't.”  
“Wouldn't I?”  
The smirk grew across Iris’ lips before she gently kicked her friend under the table, “Go, you have nothing to lose.”  
“Fine,” Felicity huffed before she stood and downed the last of her drink.  
“Who needs dignity anyway,” she mumbled as she rolled her shoulders and collected the empty glasses.  
She walked up to the bar silently muttering chants of _you can do this_ countered with _who the fuck are you kidding?_ Either way Iris would never let her return to the table without trying, so here goes...

“Two pash and dash cocktails please,” Felicity asked the bartender as she placed the empties on the bar and casually leaned on it.  
She could feel him smiling and she could feel Iris' eyes boring into the back of her head.  
  
Felicity turned briefly and offered Oliver a friendly, _but not too friendly, smile_ – well she hoped.  
“Celebrating?” he asked, his voice almost identical to how she remembered it, but maybe it was a little deeper, a little matured.  
“It’s my birthday,” she answered as her fingers splayed on the maple bar.  
“Happy birthday.”  
He raised his glass before he took a sip of the golden liquid poured over ice.

“Well, not technically today, last week,” she started “I flew in to see my friend for the weekend, she insisted we celebrate it.”  
She glanced over her shoulder to Iris who was watching so intently a tray of popcorn wouldn't have seemed out of place.  
“Well happy belated birthday then.”  
“Thank you.”  
The bartender placed the fruity peach-coloured cocktails on the bar and Felicity's hands reached to take them before she retracted them, blew out a nervous ball of air and turned toward Oliver.  
“Okay, this is stupid, you probably don’t recognise me, but I was in your gym class in ’06, my name is...”  
“Felicity,” he finished.  
  
She tried her best to contain her surprise but it may have shown when her lips parted and a soft sigh leaked from between them.  
“Wow, you remembered,” she remarked as the fingers of one hand tapped against the side of her little black dress, “I don’t know how you remember everyone’s name.”  
“I don’t,” another sip, “not everyone’s.”  
She swallowed her _Oh_.

“So you’re not roller skating and drinking milkshakes,” she jested.  
Oliver laughed genuinely, “no. They have a great band here and the bartender is a friend of mine.”  
The man who was hovering just close enough to hear but not close enough for it to be intrusive, waved.  
“But you shouldn’t knock roller skating and milkshakes till you try it,” Oliver added before he finished his drink and shook his head to the question of another from his friend, “you should definitely try it.”

Felicity lay her hand playfully on her hip, “are you asking me on a date?”  
“Oh.”  
His surprise was clearly inscribed in both the word and the look on his face.

“I’m kidding,” she laughed it off, “of course you weren’t, I’m sorry,” she went to collect the drinks, “I’m going to leave now.”

Before she could get further than a step away, Oliver spoke up.  
“I don’t have my roller skates with me, but I know a great place that makes a mean milkshake,” he spoke without pausing to breath, “if you wanted to go.”

Felicity was surprised how little thought she gave to her answer, “Okay.”  
A smile broke across Oliver's face as he stood from his stool. Even in her heels, he was impressively taller than her.  
“Wait, Iris,” she squeaked.  
“Of course,” Oliver lamented but with a nod to show he understood her predicament, “you shouldn’t leave your friend.”  
Felicity chewed her lower lip as she looked between Iris and Oliver.  
“Just a minute.”

She excused herself without another word and hurried back to the table where Iris took the drink from Felicity's hand before she'd even sat down.

“So?” she hummed before drawing in on the straw, “does he still sound like sex?”  
“That’s a super weird question,” Felicity said with judging eyes, “but also yes,” she annexed with a laugh.

“God just looking at him is making me horny,” Iris fanned her hand in front of her face.  
“Iris!”  
“What? I’m allowed to look and appreciate the artistry of the male form.”

Felicity shifted in her seat, there was a lot of Oliver to appreciate.  
“Please don’t hate me...” she started.  
Iris clapped her hands together, “he asked you back to his place?”  
“No,” a nervous lip chew, “out for a milkshake.”  
“Does that mean sex?”  
“An actual milkshake.”  
“Is he fifty?”  
Both of them laughed.

“It’s a running joke, but would you hate me if I...”  
“Go, go, go, go,” Iris insisted, “I will finish my drink, call a cab and phone sex back at my place with Barry.”  
“I’m not even going to comment,” Felicity playfully grimaced, “but are you sure? I mean I flew out to see you and I’m ditching you.”  
“For a really fucking hot guy,” she leaned into whisper the last three words, “so yes, yes I’m okay with that, now go, have milkshakes,” she winked.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you too.”

Felicity took one last deep breath before she turned and walked back to Oliver, her bag now slung over her shoulder.

“So, she’s missing her boyfriend who’s working away and was going to go home anyway, so if the offer still stands…”  
It was mostly true.  
“It still stands.”  
Oliver stood and slung his jacket over his forearm, much like he had the night of the dance. The similarity wasn’t lost on either if them but neither commented on it.  
“Okay,” that may have been more for her benefit that his.

She could _totally_ have milkshakes with a crush she'd never really gotten over.

* * *

  
Thirty minutes later and they were laughing over their milkshake glasses in Big Belly Burger. He asked about her work and what she did after college, she auspiciously looked for a wedding ring (or the tan line of one) until he mentioned – pointedly – that he lived alone.

It was easy and fluid and not a moment lapsed into awkward silence, although a lull in the conversation did allow them to suck down some of the chocolatey goodness.

Which is what they were doing when a little boy with a shock of stunning auburn hair, a lush of freckles across his face and two crutches helping him walk, stopped alongside their table with a warm smile over his exuberant face.

“Hi Coach,” he beamed, taking a moment to offer Felicity the same smile.  
“It's a Friday night Blake, call me Oliver,” Oliver looked briefly around the restaurant until he saw the boy's parents and waved, “what are you doing up this late?”

It was only 9:30, the boy looked about eight and Felicity couldn’t help smiling at the parental tone Oliver had adopted.  
“I have an operation tomorrow, this is my last meal.”  
The young boy spoke like he’d mentioned something as simple as a trip to the zoo.  
“Ah,” Oliver handed him his remaining fries, “eat up then. I’ll come and see you in the hospital as soon as I’m allowed.”  
The little boy's smile grew.  
“Wish me luck?”  
“You won’t need it, you got this,” Oliver assured, his large hand swamping the boy's shoulder, “but good luck Blake.”  
Blake leaned in and whispered something in Oliver's ear that made him smile and nod.  
“I’ll see what I can do.”  
The boy, pleased, flashed another smile at Felicity before he made his slow journey back to his parents’ booth, glancing behind just the once to smile at Felicity again.

“You’re still coaching?” Felicity asked as she stirred her straw through the creamy goodness.  
“Yes and no,” he smiled, mimicking her stirring action, “I coach disabled children, ones that have degenerative diseases or are born with varying degrees of disabilities, to those who are hurt in accidents, just helping and encouraging them to learn movements under the guise that physical therapy can be fun and they can be with other kids facing the same sort of hardships.”

Felicity listened to every word that he spoke, each one infused with a passion and dedication that couldn’t be forged or faked. Oliver loved his job.

“And what do you do in Gotham?”  
She would have listened to him talk for hours, but it appeared not only was he a saint, he was a humble one too.  
“It’s just a silly job in the research and development branch of Wayne Enterprises, it has nothing on what you do,” she blushed, suddenly feeling guilt over how many times she had complained about the lack of good coffee while Saint Oliver helped children work with life-changing disabilities.

“I wouldn't say that,” Oliver started with a genuine smile threaded over his lips, “you see Blake?” Felicity nodded in reply, “he has a pretty bad curvature of the spine and a mild form of muscular dystrophy, they’re putting plates in his spine tomorrow to try and straighten it, but there isn’t a cure, so all it will do is stunt the degenerative nature of his disease. One day I have the hope that smart people like you will use technology to give him something better than a stunt, something more permanent.”

Felicity felt the sigh gush from her lips, she knew she was swooning but she was of no mind to stop. Every word he spoke was swoon worthy.

“You might end up putting me out of a job,” he smiled back at Blake and his parents, “but it’ll be worth it.”  
A quiet lull fell over the table, but it was far from uncomfortable.

“What did he whisper to you before?” Felicity asked as she finished off her drink, Oliver finishing his mere seconds after.  
“He asked if I could get your number for him,” Oliver answered with his hands rooted on the table, “I swear to god that’s not a pick up line. I think he has a crush.”

Felicity blushed as she chuckled out a delicately soft laugh.  
“I’ve been Blake before,” she remarked, _time for a truth bomb,_ “this is going to sound crazy and stupid and I’m probably going to instantly regret admitting it, but I had a silly crush on you in High School,” she clapped a hand to the side of her face, hit with embarrassment.

She had not had enough alcohol to be readily admitting something like that.

“Maybe it wasn’t all the silly,” Oliver replied, looking just as hot across the cheeks as her, though his stubble disguised some of it.

She looked at him perplexed, _had he known? Did he maybe share...?_  
Felicity pushed the giggly 17 year old inside her further down.

“When I saw you doing the salmon ladder, well,” she paused to offer him a half tipped smile that finished what her lips wouldn’t release.

When he didn’t offer a reply, Felicity cleared her throat and sat back in the chair.  
“I just mean because it looked hard, and I was very interested in the fitness of it,” she lied, _blatantly_ , but she prayed Oliver wouldn't recount how puffed she had once been running laps around the gym.

“I could teach you,” he offered, his voice somewhat of a exclamation before he dialled it back, “if you were interested.”  
“You have one?”

Oliver’s brow pinched inwards at the realisation he didn’t.  
“No,” he replied sadly.  
“Okay.”  
Perhaps she had spoken too soon about things not being awkward between them.  
“But the high school does?”  
Her left brow arched.  
“You don’t work there...” she trailed off as he dove his hand into his pocket.  
“No,” he mumbled as he put his keys on the table, “but I never gave back the key to the gymnasium.”

“We can't,” she breathed unevenly as she starred at the key like it was the One Ring from Lord of the Rings.  
“Nooo,” Oliver drew out the word like a sigh.  
“We’re both professional adults.”  
“We are.”  
“So we can’t.”  
“Definitely not.”  
Felicity snatched the keys from the table, “let’s go.”

* * *

 

It was a little after 10pm when Oliver pulled to a stop in a parking space in the school's parking lot. The 10 minute drive had taken an extra 20 minutes because Felicity had insisted that if they were going to break into a high school, they should at least have two bottles of half priced wine and a bag of pretzels.

“This place doesn’t look any different,” Felicity remarked as she stepped from the car, supplies in hand.  
Oliver walked around his side to meet her with two picnic blankets he’d found in the boot now tucked up under his arm.  
“Let’s go,” he smiled as his fingers absently entwined with hers and she didn’t pull them away.

They ran across the field to the side door of the gymnasium and Oliver braced the key against the lock, he wasn’t even sure if it still worked.

Taking a breath he pushed it in and the door opened almost instantly.

They walked in, Oliver a few steps ahead of Felicity to turn on just as many lights as they needed to see their way through the large space.  
  
“So, are we going to do this?” Oliver asked as they walked to the corner where the salmon ladder still stood  
“What?” Felicity laughed as she toed her shoes off near the gym mats.  
“I'm going to teach you.”  
He smirked as he looked up the rungs of the ladder  
“Oh, no,” Felicity grimaced, once faced with the task it seemed far beyond her, especially in this dress – that wasn't going to be cute.  
  
“Come on, it’s just a chin up with a flourish,” Oliver teased, his fingers stroking air near her arm.  
“I don’t know what either of those things are.”  
She leaned into him, making his fingers brush her skin.  
Oliver's fingers drew soft tracks down the back of her arm, melting into her silky skin.  
“I am clearly a terrible teacher then,” he breathed.  
“Or maybe,” she whispered, blinking down for a moment before her eyes anchored in his, “I was thinking about something else, someone else,” the last two words were so quiet they were barely heard.  
  
Oliver's lips tingled as a sigh bled over them, he wanted to kiss her.  
“Maybe we can have some wine and pretzels first?” Felicity asked, her tongue rolling across her lower lip as she watched his dimple flourish.  
He shook out one of the blankets onto the pile of gym mats.  
“That seems fair,” he added with a smile.

* * *

  
  
An hour later one bottle was empty and the other was half finished while Felicity hung with her legs doing the running man mid air as she managed half a chin up if she stretched her neck as high as she possibly could.

“Does this count, do I pass gym class?” Felicity laughed as her feet dangled in the air, her dress now dangerously close to exposing much more than just her legs.  
Oliver held either side of her waist, “it counts.”

She let go of the bar and Oliver took the weight easily, their bodies passing against each other as he lowered her toward the ground.

As their faces met, Felicity noted the change in Oliver's expression. Where there had once been a soft smile there was now an intensity in his gaze and a focus in the pools of blue that were staring at her. She swallowed a bubble of nerves as she pecked a hesitant kiss to his lips. Just a brush, a soft invitation.  
  
An invitation Oliver took.  
  
He pulled her tighter against his hard body and covered her mouth with a hungry kiss. One he had been holding onto for years. She reacted almost immediately, her fingers dragging across his scalp and her tongue caressing the sweep of his lower lip.  
  
Oliver tentatively brushed his tongue against the seam of her lips and they opened with a low, sensual moan.  
  
His tongue explored the warmth of her mouth as his hands slid up her body, lowering her to the ground without their lips disconnecting.  
  
Fingers coiled around loose tendrils of hair that fell down her neck as they let the air shared between them warm with their sighs.  
  
When they finally broke apart both searched the other for signs of regret but neither found any.

Felicity toyed with the hem of Oliver's Henley, as she considered a move that would change this moment, but before she needed to settle on a decision Oliver lifted the _decider_ from his body and let it drop to the floor.  
  
“Wow,” she swallowed as her fingers danced across the valleys and ridges of his taut chest.  
Oliver breathed out a laugh as he caught her wrists gently.  
“Everything okay?”  
There was a lot loaded into his question but the smile that rose across her lips answered them all.  
“Oh yes, god yes,” she sighed before she dove another kiss onto his wet lips.  
It was fast and eager, lips crashing and tongues fighting with each other.  
_This was better than any dream she had ever about him._

  
Oliver lifted her easily, his large arms completely surrounding her back, before he carried her the short distance to where the blanket was spread out over the mats. Their lips weaved and ducked, broke away and fell together as Oliver lowered them to the ground.  
  
Felicity trawled her nails across his chest as she sat up, straddling him at the waist and feeling the hard arousal growing between his legs.  
  
She found the zip at the back of her dress and tugged it down quickly before she lifted the black dress from her body and threw it behind her. Felicity couldn't help but smile as she watched Oliver's eyes widen and his breath hitch in his throat.  
  
She took her time to unclasp the back of her scalloped lace bra and let the straps of it slip slowly down her arms before it came free from her body.  
  
“Wow,” Oliver said in a strangled voice.  
“Everything okay?” she asked with a laugh breaking from her pouted lips, still glossed with his kiss.  
“Yes, definitely yes.”

His hands hovered tentatively away from her body as if he was unsure if he could run his palms up the curve of her waist and spread his fingers across her breasts like he so desperately wanted to.

Felicity could read the hesitation in his eyes and she honestly couldn’t blame him, but when her hands flattened against the back of his she knew what she wanted and she was almost positive the same wants waved through his thoughts.

She guided his hands fluidly up her naked stomach and around her breasts, peeling her hands away when he gently began to caress and massage them of his own volition.

Her body keened into the tantric speed of his slow, measured touch as tiny mewls floated from between her swollen lips.  
  
They rolled together, their bodies side by side with their fingers touching and exploring each other with feather light strokes.

Their lips bounced between long, lingered kisses and short, chaste pecks, playfully smiling through both.

The thrumming between her legs grew louder, resonating up her entire body as she arched into him, desperate to feel some friction of his body against hers.

Her fingers slalomed down his chest, humming her delight against his lips before her hands reached the closure of his jeans. She loosened them and drew back her head to watch him with wondering eyes and her lip snagged between her teeth.

With a smile she pushed his pants down his legs and Oliver kicked them down the rest of the way.

His hand slipped between her chiffon-lace panties and the silky, warm folds of her sex. One finger eased between them and he kissed the breath that misted her lips in reply before he added a second digit to trace the path of the first.

Felicity mewled as the slightly rough pad of Oliver’s finger skirted around her clit, salaciously slow, harvesting the slick release that had pooled there.

Her hand dipped under the waistband of his briefs before her fingers curled around his base. She couldn't disguise the smile that grew at the realisation that her fingers barely touched.  
  
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a rasped whisper, strangled in his throat.  
“Yes,” her lashes fanned as she blinked, “are you?”  
Her teeth stapled her lips closed until Oliver slipped them out with his thumb.

He kissed her softly before ghosting a simple “Yes,” over her lips.

What was left of their clothes ended up in a pile before Oliver sheathed his cock under a condom Iris had, joking, although prophetically, given Felicity earlier that evening.  
  
Her leg rose up around his hip as their bodies pressed firmly against each other, warm skin dusted in a veil of sweat.

He kissed her neck while his hands played with her breasts. He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a guttural hiss to pass over her rouged lips. Oliver stilled his hands until she kissed him with carnal fervour, she didn’t want him to stop.

The hand around his cock tightened, pumping him slowly as she watched his eyes glaze over at the sensation before she held his length at her entrance.

Rocking her hips she dipped his cock inside. Her body instantly swelled around him while one of his hands anchored at her waist and the other gently cupped her head, his fingers long enough to curve around to the back, folding through her pinned hair.

The first thrust felt amazing and Felicity didn’t hold back the moan that admitted it while her leg tightened around him. Their eyes locked as he eased deeper before pulling back and thrusting forward, only to repeat the cycle again, and again, _and again._

She could feel her walls bowing around his thick member, crushing his head against them and when she rolled her hips it was Oliver’s turn to moan.

The next thrust found his lips pouncing onto hers, a mess of feisty tongues and clunking teeth, until Oliver's cock was buried to the hilt inside her.

He let her feel it, let her body move and her hips circle it. He caught the tiny drips of his name from her mouth as his fingers tightened around her waist.

When she bucked against his hips, Oliver started the slow rhythm of his thrusts while her nails dragged paths up his shoulders.

They shared hot breaths as the pace began to quicken and her cushioned walls massaged his length. Her back arched and she clenched around him, swallowing him inside her.

He kissed her breast, moulding it around his mouth, as his tongue toyed with her budded nipple, batting it around his wet mouth.

The base of his cock skimmed her clit before his thumb dove between them, drawing circles that pulled moans from her chest – moans that echoed off the walls.

Oliver pressed his weight into her and rolled them together, his body now above hers. The change in position pushed him deeper into her and Felicity cried out deliciously at the intensity of the next thrust.

Like a snake her legs strangled his waist and her heels lodged in the small of his back. Oliver braced himself above her, raised on his solid arms of sweeping muscles and twisted veins that made Felicity hum and slide her tongue between her parted lips.

She imagined biting them, feeling the muscles as the constricted against her lips and tasting the salty notes of his skin, but for now she just kissed them, as much as she could crane her neck to reach.

The still of his thrust was becoming painful as his cock throbbed to be shifted. But he wanted to watch her, let her tongue weave up the lines of his tangled muscles until she looked at him with hungry eyes and her hips tipped upwards against his.

“Oliver,” she whispered, and he’d never heard his name sound so enchanted and rich.  
“Yes,” his voice was cracked and a little panted.  
She folded her lips together and a smile curled up the edges.  
“I want this,” she hummed, making sure he knew there would be no regret from her tomorrow.

He pulled back, almost completely out, before he drove himself inside of her, a gasp of air forced from her lips. Her delicious sounds spurred him on, another thrust, then another, each one driving deeper inside her till his balls pressed against her ass.

Her nails pegged into his shoulders as she reached her head up and scolded his lips with a heavy kiss.

Fast thrusts were mirrored with low groans that filled the gym, but the taboo of it only made them louder and Oliver thrust faster.

After every thrust down he rocked up, making sure to glide inches of his cock against her clit, building the orgasm that sat low in her core.

His breathing became panted and uneven as he neared his own release. He felt her tightening around him and he watched her eyes drop back into her head before they snapped forward again.

She wanted to see this in vivid colour, not water-coloured dreams.

His name, sliced into syllables fumbled from her lips as she neared climax.

_And then..._

Her release felt like lightening down her body that spread out from her core. Her fingers felt like fire, her toes curled, her body writhed and shook and her mouth let go of a cacophony of delirious noises.

Her climax strangled his shaft as her fingers stroked his balls, feeling them tightening at her touch. The threads of his thighs tightened and his lips sought out hers as the final puzzle piece before his own climactic ending filled the condom, _and then some,_ warming Felicity as hers had done for him.

They kissed, breathless but soft as their bodies gently rode out their releases.

_None of her dreams had ever ended this good._

* * *

  
They woke the morning after to the sun shining through the high, uncovered windows. Her head was nestled into his chest, smiling as his heartbeat tickled her ear, while his arm wrapped around her and his fingers skated wavy lines over the curve of her lower back and rear all with a second blanket draped over them.

“Are you okay with last night?” he asked hesitantly, his morning voice slightly croaked before the words warmed in his throat.  
It was a question he need not ask, because every inch of her body was very okay with last night.

She crawled up his chest, her breasts skimming his shoulders before she leaned down and kissed a path from his jawline to his lips, where they smacked three quick kisses.  
“Very,” she replied, the apples of her cheeks blushing a rosy red, “and you?”

He swept her hair back from her face and studied each curve, each plane until he placed a lingered kiss against her lips.  
“Maybe the locale could have been better, but not the company.”

Felicity looked around before dropping her forehead to his chest, breathing out a chuckle to mist his skin.  
“I can't believe we, that, here...” she snorted, “I remember coming here to volunteer on Saturday mornings with the scouts and girl guides,” she reminisced as she raised her head, “do they still do that?”  
Oliver shrugged lazy shoulders, “I don't know, I don't think...”  
Before he could finish they heard the sounds of voices outside, at least four, maybe more.

Felicity sat up and Oliver bound to his feet like a rocket.  
“Shit,” the cursed in unison.

Felicity pulled on her panties and Oliver yanked up his briefs before he threw her his tee shirt. She pulled it over her body and collected the scattered clothes, throwing all but her heels at Oliver who threw them into the centre of the blanket,

The voices grew louder and someone was jiggling the door handles.

Oliver scooped up the blanket with everything bundled inside before they both burst through the fire door, setting off the alarm.

Neither of them stopped running until they reached his car. They fell into it and Oliver wasted no time throwing the blanket onto the back seat and starting the car, speeding through the parking lot until the car broke out onto the road.

With their hearts racing Oliver drove for a few miles until he finally pulled over to catch his breath. They looked across the car at each other, Oliver in only his briefs and Felicity tugging the hem of his shirt down her thighs.

Both of them looking absolutely ravaged.

They simultaneously started laughing for what felt like minutes threaded into hours.  
“So now what?” she asked, finally calming her laugh.  
“You know I could go another milkshake,” Oliver offered with a tipped smile.

Felicity nodded, her lips pursed into a playful smirk.  
“I definitely could too.”

**~The end~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my one shot turned like 14k words, lol.
> 
> Next up for Oliver the ...
> 
> Well, here is a clue, he sees bushes (if you guess a 70s porn star ILY ;) )

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, xox.
> 
> The writer and reader pairing is symbiotic, so let me know what you think (whatever form that takes).
> 
> I write the Queen's English (with a few exceptions).
> 
> Twitter/Tumblr @someonesaidcake


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